Illuminated
by broken melody x
Summary: "They are animals, now, all of them, reduced to raw screams and vivid nightmares and broken, hopeless hearts." Voldemort's won, and while trapped in Azkaban, Hermione isn't sure if life can get any worse; that is, until she's brought to Malfoy Manor, and she finds out she's at the mercy of Draco Malfoy. DMHG, AU
1. Chapter One

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ϟ

**ILLUMINATED**

ϟ

**Chapter One**

_He's won. He's won. It's all over, and she knows it, but she doesn't care. She's fighting. She'll kill him. For Harry, for herself, for everyone. Hermione Granger doesn't give up - fuck, she doesn't, she never will - and she might be breaking inside but she can just about rasp something out of her near-useless throat, so she'll carry on. She's broken out, she's out of Azkaban; and it's full of- of perfection, out here. It's as though her world of grime and starvation and __**death **__doesn't exist._

_Harry._

_It should weaken her, should bring tears to her eyes at the thought of his death, but it strengthens her resolve; after all, she's going to take revenge, and it will be perfect. _

_Knife- where's her knife? She can't kill him without it, after all, not after her wand's been snapped and stealing one is nearly impossible. She grits her teeth, because she hates being like an animal, powerless, and her knife- it's gone. Shit, shit, shit. Shit. No- and in the rain, there's nothing, nothing to find. Her clothes are sticking to her and she knows she stands out in the otherwise perfect area but she's there, Malfoy Manor, so close to killing Voldemort-_

Her heart just about breaks when she relives her dream, again, and when she's snapped out of it her heart twists, like a knife is in there, twisting and pulling out and going in again, until her fragile heart is beyond repair, again.

She stares down at her fingers, barely recognisable through the scratches and the grime, and she looks through the thick glass at Ron.

Ron, who used to be full of life-

And Ginny, on the other side-

Are they purposely putting the people who it will break her heart to see die next to her?

Because they're all broken, now, all because Harry's-

**Gone.**

And she's not that brave girl she was in her dreams, not now that she's been broken.

So she tries to let herself cry, again, because a sob would be a release, but nothing comes.

She's just left there; and she edges closer to Ron's side, and he's pressed against the glass that divides them; she presses her hand to the glass, and it is cold and smooth and the only perfect thing in this hell. Through barely-open eyes, he slowly- agonizingly- slides his hand up the glass, leaving a trail of dirt that vanishes almost instantly, and she pretends for a moment that she can feel him, his warm hand, his life, his energy, through the barrier. Ron will die first, she knows, because he can't survive without Harry- _but none of us can_, she thinks silently, _so can't you hold on for us_?

He mouths something, barely.

She can recognize it; _Hermione. _

He used to say, "I love you", before this happened, but now "I love you" is a stupid phrase. It's weak and they don't need it, because they know.

Only people who don't know it need people to tell them they are loved.

She can't talk anymore, but she can still scream in her sleep. She wakes up choking, and the minimal amount of water they get does nothing to help. It's unsatisfying and useless and they're all going to **die**, she knows.

Maybe she can't force herself to speak, because she can't bear the pain, not consciously; but none of them can control their dreams…

She can still hear Ron and Ginny and everyone else's nightmares.

Azkaban is different now. Thousands of Dementors still swarm them, day and night; but the bars have been replaced with glass that doesn't break. It cleans as soon as dirt touches it; and it looks alien, in this filthy place. Cleanliness doesn't belong here.

But the glass means the Dementors can't touch them through the bars, not anymore, so it's welcome.

No chances of being kissed while you're asleep.

Didn't there use to be some hint of romance, in the word **kiss**? It meant love and affection and _Ron _and life where living was worth it.

It means death, now. Life or death – well, maybe not. No soul doesn't mean death, but she'd rather be dead than be unable to live.

_They are animals, now, all of them, reduced to raw screams and vivid nightmares and broken, hopeless hearts._

.

How many days has it been? It wasn't yesterday she came here, she knows, but it's less than a month and more than a fortnight.

It still feels like yesterday, in the painful clarity of her memories.

She stares ahead, not really sure what she's seeing, because her vision is blurring again, bringing the cruel promise of tears; she knows that her body's long since run out of them, but she has enough for the prickle of heat in her eyes. She doesn't blink them back; in the beginning, she did, because she thought she needed to be strong.

But she refuses to be stared at like an animal in a zoo, where they laugh at her defiance and hit the glass at her stillness, wanting her to _move, _scream, cry, anything to make them laugh_. _She's meant to be fire, dammit, she's meant to be-

Fuck who she's meant to be; there's no way she'll ever be that again.

She's not going to be who she wanted to be, either; she won't ever get a good job, or - Merlin forbid - have kids. She will never have kids, in this world; that would be condemning them to a life like hers, and she will never sentence her children to this.

She breathes in what oxygen she can, with her broken body, and exhales. Her warm breath fogs on the icy glass.

She tries licking her lips, but her cracked tongue does nothing. Dry. Dry.

She tries not to think about how much she craves water- oh, the perfection of the clear liquid life - but the more she tries to suppress it, the clearer the image becomes. A glass of clear, cold water, right there, if she could just reach out and grab it -

Her hand paws at empty air, and she knows she's going mad, slowly.

Food -

She regrets all their sour faces when they were camping, destroying Horcruxes, because even the meagre amount of food feels like a feast, and it's sitting there: a handful of mushrooms, a slice of bread. Water.

Her hallucinations aren't vivid, no. The vividness would be out of place, with the icy glass walls and the grey stone floor, and the grey stone sky, because that is her sky, now; she only sees in grey.

Grey and crimson blood.

It is hot and sticky and oddly mesmerising.

It stands out, amongst the sea of grey; grey uniform, grey walls, grey everything.

It doesn't feel like prison; prison implies _something _apart from this.

It just feels like the place she's going to die.

She doesn't want to die staring at a glass of water that will never be real.

And it's painful and monotonous and stifling, choking, unpleasant, so much so that she thinks she just might suffocate.

She doesn't want to die knowing everything was in **vain**; the Horcruxes aren't destroyed, Harry is lost, and Voldemort is still _alive_.

Her skin prickles uncomfortably at the thought of him, and she's filled with a boiling, burning rage that refuses to calm and she doesn't want it to; there is a monster where her rationality used to be, thirsting for his blood, thirsting for the day he'll fall and she'll be_ free _–

It's dulled.

But it's there.

She wonders why she still has the will to live, when Ron's given up and Ginny will be falling beside him any day now.

The flap opens, and a few sips of water are in a small plastic cup. Unbreakable.

It can't be used as a weapon; she's tried, though she knew it was futile - how can a plastic cup cut enchanted glass?

A slice of stale bread is thrown in, too, with green clotting up the edges and something unpleasant growing in the middle. She grabs the goblet, and takes a sip, just one, because this is all she will get for today and tomorrow; it must be morning, now, she thinks, because she's figured out that at six hours after the stars die – when the sky vanishes, and the grey ceiling closes over – they get a meal.

Counting stars is all she can do, these broken nights, but it brings bile to the back of her throat when she sees the constellations; it is an enchanted sky, of course, because how are Bellatrix and Draco and _everyone _she hates all together, interconnected? There is an outline outside each shape, as well, to taunt them further; and she's seen Seamus, head between his knees, rocking back and forth each night when he looks at them, unable to do anything -

Maybe the reason for the glass walls is so they will all see each other die, and it will slowly drive them insane.

**AN: **_well, yes, it's back up under a different name with an edited summary. If it's your first time reading, drop a review? If you've already read it, review if you're kind and just go away if you're mean :P _

_I just got back from my holiday! It was usually 40 degrees there and here it's something like 10. Damn you, England!_

_x_


	2. Chapter Two

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ϟ

**ILLUMINATED**

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**Chapter Two**

He's sick of fighting, sick of serving, sick of **living**.

Why bother carrying on when there's no one there to live for?

When his parents are mindless slaves and he's engaged to a girl who doesn't know what she's getting into and

he

doesn't. want. to. carry. on

anymore.

Because- he's staring, staring, at blank white walls and bland black sheets because he doesn't see colour any more: he only sees black and white, and a few shades in between. He can't bear looking at emerald, what he's meant to be fighting for, who he's meant to be serving; he hates it.

He didn't want this. Draco didn't want this, but there's nothing else he can do unless he wants to _die _-

And Draco is far too much of a fucking coward to walk to his own death. He's not Potter, he's not fucking _suicidal -_

He's not brave, either.

It strikes him how much everyone around him still thinks in the narrow-minded boxes of house conformity. It's pointless; school is _over_, and they're adults now. He is 17 and he hates it.

He wishes Potter were still alive, so he didn't have to go and pretend to laugh at the shattered remnants of the Golden Trio.

(look at what he's been reduced to; wishing his enemy would come back to life)

They've stopped, now, but at the beginning, where Granger was defiant, he went; he went, and he _laughed _at her state, because it genuinely amused him. She was below him, at last, and he wouldn't get beaten for coming second in end-of-years, and he wouldn't get beaten for being punched by a Mudblood, and his life would be fantastic, when the Dark Lord died and Draco took over, because he was supposed to, he thought -

The Dark Lord will never die. Draco knows that, now.

**Horcruxes**.

He knows; he knows what they are, and it disgusts him to think of that. It disgusts him to think of someone killing so they can live forever; his tyranny will never end, and Draco will live and die in a world where he will never truly be happy.

Happiness is a foreign concept to him; he wonders if he's ever truly been happy, or if they were just delusions.

_Look at your status! Look at your home! You're above the mudbloods, and superior to traitors like Weasleys; how dare you say you're unhappy, you little -_

He still has the scar, stretching across his back, to show where he was hit for saying he wasn't happy. That was the first time his father hit him, when he was fifteen; two weeks later, he had the dark mark, condemning him.

But he _wasn't_, happy, dammit; alone in a world where he never saw his parents, and when he did it was lessons on blood purity. Alone in a world where he never had friends, apart from the children of his father's friends. All dictated by his parents, in a world where he was a poster child and nothing more; feelings weren't allowed.

Crying wasn't allowed.

"Draco?"

Astoria slips into the room. She is still so fucking _young_; he pities her, in some corner of his mind, he knows; but that pity has long since been buried by disgust, when he saw what she was capable of.

She's only fifteen, but she can kill and torture and she truly, truly enjoys it. Her face flushes and her hair is wild and he knows she's pretty, but he hates her so fucking _much; _and he blames Bellatrix, for teaching her, because apparently _she wasn't fit to marry him until she could do this _-

She is a natural at taking lives and ruining them, destroying them.

Long black hair and bright green eyes make him _sick_. It makes him think of Potter, for one, and now Astoria; he will never be able to look at someone with those features without hating them.

"What?" he spits.

She smiles, a shy little smile, but he knows what she can do and he binds her before she can raise her wand.

"Whoa!" she giggles, and he wants to _punch _her _so fucking hard_-

"What do you want?" he asks, cruelly, already flicking through the non-permanent curses he knows- shame, that rules the killing curse out – oh, how he'd love to watch the light leave her eyes -

Shit.

He didn't just think of killing a fifteen-year-old, no matter how wiling she is to kill him herself -

Shit.

Guilt courses through him, hot, like poison, and slowly he murmurs "_Diffindo,_" and the ropes slide off her.

"Much better," she murmurs. "Why don't you trust me?"

"Give me a reason to, and I might consider it," he snarls.

She grins, a wicked grin that is far more true to her personality. "You actually would? And I thought you were the smartest in your year- oops. I forgot. You were beaten by the mudblood, weren't you? What was her name- Granger?"

That still _hurts_, and she knows it. Their enmity was - is - something deeper than petty remarks and high scores.

It was purity and hatred and war and so, so much more; and he knows, maybe, that he insulted her because he **knew**; he knew he was doing this because her existence went against everything he'd been told, growing up, and everything he'd ever _seen_; mudbloods were below them. They were dirty, usurpers of their magic, and they were the only ones who deserved to have magic; and a girl, as well?

((he is in a stupid society that still believes in men when Draco knows and loathes knowing that maybe girls might be the answer to this mess))

And maybe, now, he might understand that blood might not be everything.

But maybe Granger is an abnormality.

He clings to it, the fragile hope that maybe she is just _strange; _strange and powerful and brilliant.

She shouldn't be, but she is – and he resents her for it, fucking_ detests _her for it.

"What? Thinking of all your failures?"

Her voice snaps him back into reality and he gives her a vicious glare; he hates her.

He really, truly, actually hates her.

"Draco, now. Such strong emotions aren't good for you," she simpers.

"What – so has been Auntie Bella been teaching you new tricks?" he asks furiously – this is an invasion of his fucking _privacy, _it's none of her goddamn _business _how much he hates the Dark Lord –

"What?" she asks quietly. "What was that?"

He crosses the room in quick, furious strides and grabs her by the shoulders, shaking her roughly, shoving her against the door and saying, slowly, carefully, "You – heard – _nothing."_

She nods – there is fear in her eyes, he notes with satisfaction – and says, "Let go of me, please, Draco."

"You pathetic little _bitch, _how dare you- "

"You're hurting me." Her voice is shaky and terrified – what does she think he's going to do to her, while she is pressed against the door, so utterly vulnerable?

No.

Not – _that._

It terrifies him that she'd even _think _he was fucking _capable _of it. He backs off and says, "I think it's best if you leave now," in a careful, measured tone – Merlin, she's so young.

She is _too_ young.

Too young to be exposed to this – too young to be getting married in a month.

Too young to –

He opens his mouth to say something – to apologize? – but she is already gone.

.

**AN: **_Wanna whack it with a stick? Wanna hug it? Let me know! _

_If you reviewed last time, you are a superstar. If you faved/followed, you are also a superstar. But would you mind dropping me a review this time around? I'd love to hear what you think xo I'm a review whore, it's part of my nature. xP_

_To those of you who haven't seen my profile: this story will be updated every __**Sunday. **__I wasn't going to update today, because the story's only been up for a few days (stupid me, I didn't start on a Sunday…) but I thought that would be mean, so here you are. _

_Reviews make my day! Even if it's one word. I don't mind. xP_

_xo ella_


	3. Chapter Three

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ϟ

**ILLUMINATED**

ϟ

**Chapter Three**

"Get up."

Her eyes snap open – it is painful and unpleasant and _far too quick_ but she doesn't notice. She is too fixated on _him_ – on his voice, on his too-pale skin. It is oddly familiar, but in the worst way possible.

"I said UP!" he roars. She tries to stand and finds she can't, not anymore. She shakes her head, _I can't_, and he slaps her across the face. She breathes – in, out, in, out – and shakes again.

Another blow. _Fuck, _it fucking _hurts, _and she glares at him – so hard, why isn't he dropping dead? Looks can kill; they can, if you try hard enough, and Merlin knows she's trying.

"Screw you," she says, tries to say, does it really matter? It doesn't make a difference.

His hood falls off and she watches him smirk in understanding – his hair is blond – blond, blond, it's _him -_ God, she wants to _kill _him, wants to fucking watch Draco Malfoy _suffer _– he is a bastard who deserves to fucking _die, _she hates him with everything she has – what wouldn't she do for a knife right now?

He raises his wand and she watches it warily.

Her gaze darts towards Ron, just momentarily, and she sees that he's being hit too. She flinches, and then glares at Malfoy. "Stay away from me."

It doesn't work, never works, _why can't she just speak_, dammit –

He looks at her with interest. "You can't move and you can't speak. My, my, Granger, what's happened to you?"

Silence falls and she has never wanted someone to die more than she does now.

"How dare you look at me like that? Insolent little bitch. Look down!" he orders.

She refuses to lower her gaze, refuses to submit; he doesn't deserve her submission.

She will die before doing what he says.

"You're awfully brave for someone so pathetic. _Crucio."_

He says it calmly – _so fucking calm – _and she hates it, hates him, and knives are piercing her skin – she wants one of those silver daggers, she wants one to _kill him _– shit it _hurts_, it fucking does, and she is writhing on the floor – there is screaming, isn't there, screaming so fucking _loud_, it hurts her head, she is going mad, she is going mad, she wants to die – _stop stop please just stop_ – someone is laughing, why won't they help? – she is breathing – she isn't breathing – it is over.

"Fuck you, Malfoy," she whispers, voice shaking, but she still fucking can't _talk._

"What's that, Granger? I want to hear your suffering. _Dixit__*****__._"

"I said, fuck you," she snarls, and _shit –_ she can speak, she can fucking _talk_. "And stay the hell away from me." Louder, louder, _use your voice - _

"Oh, but Granger – I don't have to listen to you. See, Potter is dead, and so is Dumbledore. So get up."

"I fucking _can't_."

He ignores her, carries on talking. "If you had just given up in the beginning, you could have been something. So much fucking potential. Up. Now."

"You – "

He smirks, and she knows he is baiting her but who cares – it fucking worked, didn't it? He knows it did.

"Weakness doesn't suit you, Granger. _Ambulat__*****__."_

Feeling surges back into her legs, her body, and she hates herself. It feels…good.

She doesn't want to be indebted to him for anything. Not even this.

It's still his mistake.

It is too much to fucking process; she stands up and throws her entire weight at him – it's barely anything - he is stronger, he has a wand, but she just wants to_ hurt _him as much as she fucking _can_ – take his wand and escape – come on – adrenaline is pulsing through her, hot, and –

He laughs humourlessly.

"Merlin, Granger, you're actually pathetic," he hisses, forcing her off him, against the glass – it is unpleasantly cold. "You are weaker than me. Accept it."

His fingers are long and pale – too much so, pressed against her shoulders, holding her against the clear barrier.

She struggles against him. "Let _go, _you bastard. I always knew you'd turn out just like your father, the abusive, sadistic little – "

He slaps her for the third time in (how long?) and she swears she can feel the red creeping back across her cheek.

"Don't mention my father," he orders, "Ever. Or you will regret it." He shakes her and her head thumps painfully against the glass. It is hard – too hard. "Clear?"

She spits in his face, a mixture of blood and saliva.

"_Poculum__*****__,_" he murmurs, and then he forces her head to hit the glass again. She swears she can feel every bit of her skin that hits the jagged piece of glass he just created tearing, fucking _slowly_, before the blood starts to drip out, hot and sticky and _fucking unpleasant_ down her neck.

"Crystal," she snarls. "It's okay that you don't want to think about how similar you are to him. It'd give anyone nightmares," she says sweetly.

Sickly. Sarcastic.

She hates him too much to put into words, and he has brought her back to life.

"Shut _up _about my father, you little - _crucio_!" he yells – it's not calm _this _time, she's gotten through to him – but it's worse – a thousand times worse, a million times worse – than last time.

"Fuck – you – " she murmurs between screams – but the screams are all she hears, all he hears, and eventually she stops fighting – wouldn't it be easier to let herself to mad? The shrieks rip out of her throat, painful, piercing, and she considers giving up –

Breathe.

Breathe fast, faster, fastest – she is okay, she will survive. She glares at him, wild, and _hatred _is too mild a word -

He laughs harshly. "You'll learn to submit soon enough. Now come."

"What?"

She assumed they were here to rough her up – it's happened before, an age ago, when she was defiant, where she could survive the Cruciatus Curse and not scream one bit. "I said, come. It's not your place to ask questions, you filthy little mudblood."

She smirks, just a little. "I've been waiting to hear that word."

"Oh?"

"It shows you're the same bastard your father is – and that you haven't changed at all."

He hits her again, harder, the hardest so far – she allows her face to scrunch up, just a bit, and then she bites her lip and stops. No weakness.

He will exploit it.

"Walk."

"Where are you taking me?"

Fear creeps into her voice – but surely, nowhere can be worse than this.

_Relax._

She said it an era ago, before she was sorted; she said it as Devil's Snare tried to crush her friends; she has said it a million times.

"None of your fucking _business_, Granger. Keep your fat mudblood mouth shut."

They are moving slowly – too slow – and she sees Ron walking in front of her. He is covered in bruises - purple, blue, green, yellow - and red blood. It is a grotesque sort of rainbow. "HERMIONE!" he yells, twisting his head to look for her. The look in his eyes is wild, terrified. Why can't he see her? She is right there behind him. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

The Death Eater leading him punches him in the stomach. "Shut up and walk!"

"SCREW YOU! WHERE IS SHE, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? I'LL KILL YOU, YOU DEATH EATER BASTARD! I'LL – "

"_Silencio!" _he snarls. The man is tall andhe looks strong, so fucking _strong_, and she wonders how Ron is surviving – shit, shit, he is already so weak –

"Let me see him!" she begs, almost, but no – she won't beg – she'll ask. "Please, Malfoy, just – stop what you're doing, let him see me – "

"You know, Granger, I might've let you, but since you've been so disrespectful to your superior, I'll make it a _no_."

"You will never be superior to me, Malfoy," she snarls. "Blood means nothing."

"Blood means everything. You are filth. You are worth less than the dirt under my shoes, you are disgusting, you are _nothing_."

"And that's why you sound like you're reciting from a dictionary," she retorts, struggling to break away from him – she can't, she can't, she fucking _can't._

She doesn't hear a spell, but he must have silenced her, because she can't talk after that. She screams in frustration, but of course nothing comes out; it felt so fucking _good _to be able to speak again. Ron is screaming, still fucking _screaming_ – she wants him to stop, she wants to touch him, she wants to tell him it's okay. She wants to tell them to stop hitting him, stop, stop, why are they doing it?

Maybe she is screaming with him; she can't tell –

Desperation is creeping up on her, and it is far more terrifying and far more fucking _vivid _than fear; no, fear is tame in comparison.

It starts with a few black spots around her eyes, multiplying when she blinks, making her feel dizzy and sick.

It escalates with the beating of a heart. It is all she hears – loud, louder, until it is a drumbeat, steady – _thump, thump, thump –_ and is she still walking? Maybe she is, maybe she isn't – swaying is the right word for it, she decides, or floating, maybe - and then she can only see Ron – his face, not his face, because Ron's face isn't like that, no – not like that, not a rainbow of pain -

And then everything goes black.

**AN: **_Wow, you guys are actually amazing. This is doing tons better than Insanity in terms of faves and follows, which makes me think I must be doing _something _right, but it's lower in terms of reviews._

_(I sound like a lunatic. Blame the fizzy drinks.)_

_This chapter is boring. I think. Well, I hope you don't think so, but I think so. You are perfectly entitled to agree with me. It's filler – ish. The writing style is also slightly different – I wrote the first two chapters a few months ago and I guess I've changed a little. You probably haven't noticed, though. If you did, you can have a cookie xP_

_Remember, reviews feed the authoress! Kind of like cookies…_

_I happen to really like cookies. In fact, if you review, you can have a cookie too! _

_Damn. Now I'm craving cookies._

_Right, I'm off to find cookies. Yum._

_xo ella_

_*** **__all spells were taken off Google Translate. Which is ridiculously unreliable, but hey – I don't speak Latin, so Google Translate will have to do. Um, the translations for all the spells are: _

_Dixit – speak  
Ambulat – walk  
Poculum – glass_

_Well, they mean something along those lines. Anyone who knows better, feel free to correct me! I've always sucked at Latin. _

_Now, to find those cookies…xP_

_(sweet merlin, that was a __**really**__ long AN)_


	4. Chapter Four

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ϟ

**ILLUMINATED**

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**Chapter Four**

"What do you want with me?"

He ignores her, dragging her into the dungeon and slamming the door shut after them.

"Where's Ron – Malfoy, _please_ – "

"Shut _up_, you stupid little – "

"I fucking _won't_, you bastard, you Death Eater scum – "

He flicks his wand in her direction without looking at her – he knows the spell has found its target, because she goes silent.

Thank Merlin.

He silently wills his aunt to stay asleep and not come join him – but listening to Weasley's shrieks next door, she is going to wake up soon, if she hasn't already, and then he will have to continue his façade of being a loyal little puppet, happy to torture and maim -

Fuck.

"_Finite_," he says. She starts talking – he cuts her off. "Granger, you are going to be staying here for…for my aunt's amusement, I suppose."

Her face goes pale – paler than he thought possible.

"They – " _it should be we, _he thinks. _Traitor – _"_We _alsowant information on the remaining members of the Order – "

"Over my dead body," she snarls.

He rolls his eyes at her stupidity, at her bravery. "It'll be over your heavily tortured body if it has to come to it."

"Malfoy – please, you can help me, you could – "

"I can do nothing," he says harshly. "If you had surrendered in the beginning, you might have been okay – but since you went to Azkaban, the Dark Lord is getting impatient. They want information and you will give it to them, because otherwise you are going to fucking _suffer_. Clear?"

She can't be crying – surely he's imagining things? She wipes away a tear – no, he isn't imagining it - and says, "Fuck you, Malfoy – "

The doors swing open and Bellatrix enters. "If it isn't the little mudblood, come to play," she coos, talking as one would talk to a baby – only filled with sarcasm.

Not for the first time, he wonders if his aunt isn't quite sane.

"Draco – move!" she barks.

"Aunt Bellatrix – " he says, trying to stall for time – "Can we – "

"Out of the way, Draco, unless you want the same treatment as her!" she orders, and he knows she's serious. He narrowly steps away from Granger before she yells, "_Crucio!" _

Hermione shrieks – no, it's _Granger, _mudblood Granger, what is he thinking – and she writhes on the floor. "Where are the Order?"

"Stop – " she chokes, "Please, make it _stop_ – "

Bellatrix lifts the curse and goes closer to her, Granger, and he is filled with a sinking feeling as she grabs Granger by the chin and forces her to look up, up, and he knows how good his aunt is with that cursed knife – she has practised on him multiple times, after all – and he wants to turn away but he can't, frozen where he is, watching with a sort of fascinated horror.

"STOP, JUST MAKE IT STOP – " she yells blindly, and he realises that she still thinks she's under the Cruciatus – he wonders if maybe she didn't make it out of Azkaban as sane as he thought. "PLEASE – " she tries to crawl away, away, but wherever she goes, Bellatrix is already there.

Bellatrix raises the knife and presses the tip to Granger's throat. Where the blade touches Granger's throat, she lets out a raw, animalistic scream, making the hairs on his body stand on edge; somehow, she turns her head and looks directly at him and yells, "PLEASE – STOP, STOP, _MALFOY_, MAKE IT STOP – "

Bellatrix looks at him, dark eyes flashing, and he is filled with dread –

Somehow, he twists his face into an uncaring expression and walks away.

ϟ

It has been hours since he left; it has been days; it has been decades, centuries, millennia.

He closes his eyes and sees her screaming, screaming, and he forces his eyes open again – something as routine as blinking is ruined because of _her, _all the mudblood's fault.

Well, partially Bellatrix – but mostly her.

Dully, he wonders how long it will take for Bellatrix to _stop_ – he can still hear Granger's screams from the dungeons, two floors down. Her shrieks are driving him insane, slowly, and he can't stand it. He gets up, ignoring the stabbing pain in his foot from the sudden movement, and paces.

She screams particularly loudly, and he grabs the nearest fragile item and throws it at his door, hard, and yells, "_Silencio," _at the door, hating himself, hating her, hating the Dark Lord.

An eerie silence falls over the room, and he screams with frustration, grabbing something, throwing it, again, again, again – there is a satisfying smash every time he does it, _again, again - _

He hears the lock on his door click and Astoria walks in. Thank Salazar she's been too afraid of him to be her usual self as of late; but the sickening guilt he feels every time she walks past is a heavy price to pay.

He knows he scared her.

He can't bring himself to regret it, either; he feels guilty, yes, but he knows he would have done it again in a heartbeat.

It terrifies him.

"What do you want?" he snarls.

"What are you _doing?" _she demands. "Draco, you've ruined your bedroom – "

"Stop acting like you give a fuck and get out," he orders, glaring at her, all guilt forgotten. "What – decided you're going to try and stop being such a fucking _bitch_? I wouldn't waste your time, it's impossible."

"Screw you, Draco, you know that? You're so like your father, it's sickening; I shouldn't have agreed to marry you, you abusive bastard – "

"SHUT UP!" he yells. "WHEN THE _FUCK _HAVE I EVER ABUSED YOU – "

"WELL, YOU CAME PRETTY FUCKING CLOSE THE OTHER DAY – "

"Out," he says coldly. "Get the _fuck _out, then, break the fucking engagement – Merlin knows it'd be a mercy not to marry a sadistic cow like you."

Her eyes flash and her wand is out within the time it takes him to blink, painfully – _dammit, Granger – _and she yells, "_Crucio!"_

He deflects the spell with ease, laughing bitterly at her incompetence – he is being trained by the Dark Lord, after all, and Astoria is only being trained by his aunt; and Bellatrix is no match for her master, which means Astoria is no match for Draco, either.

He doesn't even need to speak it; with an almost lazy flick of his wand, he disarms her, binds her, and has her hanging upside down, blood rushing slowly to her face.

He thinks of last time she was this defenceless and lets her down, her body crashing onto the floor with a thump. He throws her wand back at her and says, "Get up and get out."

"It always seems to come to this, doesn't it?" she replies, and he almost laughs – almost – but then he remembers who he is talking to and –

He can't bring himself to give a damn.

She isn't worth hating.

"Just leave, please," he says – no matter how easy it seemed, wandless magic isn't easy, and he only used it to try and give her a scare.

He starts fixing his room; it's like all his energy has been _drained_, like he can't be bothered to feel or think or do anything.

Astoria grins viciously. "Feeling tired?"

_Shit_, he thinks, and he tries to reach for his wand but he can't, and his eyes are closing against his will – no, that's a lie, how he would welcome sleep – he is tired, so tired.

She waves her wand at him and energy floods back into him.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he yells. "You stupid, stupid _bitch_ – what was that?"

"It's a favourite of your aunt's," she replies, grinning wickedly. "I'm sure the Dark Lord teaches you all sorts of dark magic – but nothing for a duel like this one. Your aunt, on the other hand…"

"Just get out."

"Give me my wand," she replies.

"I hope you burn in hell," he snarls, before wrenching open the door and tossing her wand outside – Granger is still screaming, screaming – and saying, "well – go fetch, then," with a cruel twist of his lips. She glares at him and leaves – he slams the door.

Granger's screams are still ringing in his ears.

**Notes: **_well, you guys are so damn fantastic, you don't deserve an author as pathetic as I am – I'm so, so sorry I haven't updated. It's been forever, I know, and I'm really sorry – my finals start __**tomorrow**__, which sucks, and I'm sitting here and typing so that I don't feel guilty. Physics first thing tomorrow morning – oh, the joys! I've always sucked at Physics._

_On a slightly happier note: this has reached almost half the faves/follows Insanity had. Yay. *grins* sadly, we aren't doing that well in reviews. Pretty please? With whipped cream and a cherry on top? (not that I deserve them, after abandoning you all for weeks, but eh.)_

_OH AND NEXT CHAPTER THEY ACTUALLY INTERACT. You know, without them swearing at each other and whacking each other and all that. Well, I can't promise __**zero **__swears – but you know what I mean…_

_xo ella_


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